


Sigils in the Sand

by Jaybeesaur



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Nesting, not quite crack but probably pretty close, peacocking, pretty much ooc
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-01 06:25:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2762987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jaybeesaur/pseuds/Jaybeesaur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is acting strange. He thinks he's being subtle. He's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. It's not the attic, it's my room.

“Dean, please! This is very serious. It is imperative that you help me carry these twigs up to my room!” Castiel whined like a child. He didn't really ask. No, it was more like a demand. And Dean wasn't all too sure how Bobby would react if he knew Dean had a hand in... whatever this was. Hell, he wasn't too sure how _he_ felt about carrying huge bundles of sticks up two flights of stairs to the attic – no, I'm sorry, Cas' “room”. This was going to make a giant mess and he didn't even know what he would say if Bobby asked for an explanation.

Speaking of which... “Cas, what are you planning to do with all these sticks anyway? Why is it so ' _imperative_ ' that you have a ton of tree branches in your room?”

Castiel stared at the bundle of twigs in his arms. “I'm building something...” He mumbled, halfheartedly tracing sigils in the dirt with the tip of his shoe.  
Dean rolled his eyes. Grabbing two bundles, he lead the excitable angel into the house.

“Wipe your feet.” Dean told him.

He did.

“You said you want these in your room, right?”

“Yes.”

“Lead the way.” He gestured toward the stairs, hard to do with a 10 pound bundle of sticks in either arm but he made do with minimal fumbling.

Barely holding his composure, he followed Castiel up the stairs. It wouldn't be so bad if Castiel didn't make such jerky movements and frequent, sudden stops. I don't know why he kept stopping, but he did. Dean could've sworn that he saw Cas worrying his lip between his teeth when he looked over his shoulder at him every time he stopped.

Finally, they reached the top of the stairs. Surprised that he hadn't been toppled by Castiel's quirky behavior on the stairs; he reached for the door handle.

  
“No!” Castiel cried out, grabbing his wrist with a panicked force hard enough to turn Dean on his heel and leave him staring Cas straight in the face and yanking it away from the still-unopened door.

Dean stared in shock. Cas had been acting weird all week but violence was new on the list of 'not-Cas' behaviors that Dean had grown to know.

Castiel's face twisted up. He looked like he might puke, honestly. He threw his bundles on the ground by the door and snatched Dean's from his hands, disposing of them in a similar manner.

Dean was still staring at Cas, completely thrown off by his odd demeanor.

“There.” Cas said, sounding faint or perhaps out of breath. “There is a good spot for those. Yes, a very good spot indeed. In fact, it's such a great spot...” He said, grabbing Dean by the shoulders; “that I believe I may no longer require your assistance. Thank you, Dean. You were very helpful.” He turned him around and began pushing him towards the stairs they had just come up on.

  
“Woah, woah, woah. Cas? What the heck, man? A minute ago it was 'imperative' that I helped you and now you don't even want me to help, like what, at all?”

He stopped letting Cas push him, refusing to be budged another inch. He turned back around to face him but Cas refused to look him in the eye.

“It's not that I don't want your help Dean... it's just... that...” He pleaded, not wanting to displease or worry Dean. His face lit up when he figured a way to tell Dean to get lost without hurting his feelings or revealing his motives. He locked eyes with Dean with a new determination, knowing that this new plan of his would work.

“This kind of work requires a more... _delicate touch_.” He chose his words carefully, knowing Dean's thought process would accept the excuse, boost his masculine ego and still succeed in allowing him to work in peace and secrecy, without Dean interfering. He would think that Castiel was in fear of the safety of his sticks, which he was, but he would not suspect that what lies _behind_ the door is what Castiel _really_ fears Dean discovering. It's too early for him to know. It's not done yet. It's not ready. _He's_ not ready.

“Uh, yeah. Okay, Cas. I mean, you're the one who threw the sticks on the ground. Just remember that if you decide to get all pissy about it later. I'll see you downstairs? I guess?” He could see that Cas didn't want his help anymore, that much was clear. What was unclear was the real reason. Dean knew Cas wasn't telling him the whole truth but if Cas wanted his privacy he would give it to him. Who knows, maybe Cas was having angel-PMS or something? Whatever. He shrugged and trotted down the stairs.

He could hear Castiel fumbling with the door behind him, most likely shoving the sticks inside the room now that Dean was out of sight. When he sat down at Bobby's kitchen table he could hear him rush down the stairs and slam the door on his way out. Probably going to get more freaking sticks. He nodded at Sam, who gave him a look. Now Sam's acting weird too, (even if it is his normal type of weird). Great.

 


	2. Not your average Hunters' Haul

Of course, the internet would be down. Dean closed his laptop with a dull thump. He stared up at the ceiling as if he could just see Cas doing... whatever it was that he was doing up there. He wished he knew what was going on up there, with the internet down it was hard to curb his growing curiosity. Maybe if he just could sneak a quick peek....? No. He couldn't start thinking like that. Castiel didn't want Dean to know what was going on in that room and Dean didn't want to know. Okay, well I mean he wanted to know but he wasn't going to actively go behind Cas's back to find out. It wasn't that important for him to know. It was none of his business.

  
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair at the kitchen table. Sam was sitting in the living room, reading a book by the couch. Dean wondered if maybe he was researching monsters, or maybe he was actually reading for fun in his downtime? Dean thought about that instead of what Cas was doing.

* * *

 

Meanwhile, up in the room, Castiel was arranging and re-arranging his sticks. Would this be enough? Would these sticks make a suitable nest? Were they good enough? Was he good enough? He couldn't make himself carry that train of thought for long. That's what mating rituals are all about. Nest building was the last thing on the list of things to show a potential mate but it was the most important, it had to be done right. Sure, ideally the potential mate would help in making up the nest but Dean had never even made a sleeping nest on his own, how would he be able to craft a mating nest with no experience? Besides, he did help bring the sticks. Cas guessed that would be enough and checked 'potential mate helps build mating nest' off his list.

  
He knew he still had more preparations to take care of, more rituals to complete. The first few had been a resounding success. Dean had groomed him without provocation by fixing his tie. Dean had given him a gift, the fake FBI badge. He had allowed Castiel to take care of his needs, letting him provide necessities like magazines and toilet paper. Tonight he was going to achieve providing food for him and his family. Being able to take care of your mate is one thing but taking care of their family proves, without a doubt, that you are an acceptable provider. As long as everyone partakes in the meal, Dean should be ready for the ritual after that as well. Hopefully all will go according to plan. He adjusted a twig just barely. Perfect.

* * *

 

“Hey, boy.” Said a gruff voice, coming from behind him.

  
“Heya, Bobby. What's all that for?” Dean asked, turning around to engage in the conversation. A conversation with Bobby had never failed to take his mind off things before, he hoped it wouldn't be any different this time. Bobby threw some grocery bags on the counter.

  
“Your angel-friend asked me to go to the store. Said something about wanting to whip up something special for us for dinner tonight. Apparently, what's already in the fridge wasn't good enough for Mr. Sunshine up there.” He pointed up. Dean guessed Bobby could hear Cas fumbling around in his room.

  
“Thanks for the help, by the way.” Bobby sassed, stretching out his back.

  
“Oh, right, sorry Bobby.” Dean said, walking over to help put the groceries away. He grabbed the cans, Bobby shouldn't have to bend down to put them in the floor-level cabinets. There was a bigger noise from upstairs, it caught their attention, making them stare at the ceiling before getting back to work.

  
“What's he doing up there anyway? He better not break anything.” He said, handing Dean a can of '3 bean salad'. Dean made a face as he read the label. He had tried this before. The overuse of vinegar and other bitter, acidic flavors made him gag. It's a hard feat to conquer; getting Dean to stop eating mid-meal, but the 3 bean salad was a titan and beat him down as if he were a lamb. He put the can as far in the back as he could.

  
“I don't know, honestly. He said he wanted my help but I guess he changed his mind. He pretty much told me to 'get lost' as soon as we got to the door.” He stood, brushing the legs of his pants with his hands, as if he could actually have gathered dust on them in Bobby's immaculate house.

  
"That boy is something else. I hope he's not up to no good up there. He's been acting a little too skiddish for my tastes. You make sure he knows I won't allow no crazy summonings or nothing in the house. That's stuff for the basement. Got it?" Bobby put a case of beer in the fridge.

  
"Cas ask for that too?" Dean said, pointing at the case.  
"Nope." He closed the fridge.  
"You gonna share?"  
"Nope." He cracked open a bottle.  
Dean laughed.  
"Now go tell your buddy his groceries are here. If you boys need me for anything, you know where to find me."


	3. Are you serious?

“Cas!” Dean shouted up the stairwell. No response.

“Hey, Cas!” he tried louder, cupping his hand over the corner of his mouth, trying to get the sound to travel as far as it could, but to no avail.

He's still making a lot of noise up there, Dean guesses he can't hear him over the ruckus.

He grumbles and starts making his way up the stairs. They're old and creak when you step on them but Bobby always declines any offer made of fixing them. _Probably because he doesn't have to walk on them anymore_ , Dean muses.

He reaches the door at the top of the stairs and knocks, “Cas, Bobby just got home with your groceries. He told me to come tell you.”

He hears shifting inside the room, presses his ear to the door trying to see if he can piece together anything familiar. All of a sudden, he almost falls forward, barely had anytime to react between the time he heard the footsteps scrambling his way and the door being ripped away from him.

Cas is in front of him now, blocking all attempts he makes for trying to peek into the room by putting his body in the way at each movement Dean makes.

“He's here? That's good! Very good. Did he bring the chicken I asked for?” Cas says it all way too fast for Dean to understand half of it, and he doesn't even wait for an answer before he's shoving Dean out of the way and rushing down the stairs, door slammed shut behind him. And then the front door.

Dean's gets all the way to the bottom step before he hears the chicken clucking. Hears the chicken... Clucking..? A... _live_... Chicken...?

Are you serious?

 


End file.
